Pearls and Lillies
by organanation
Summary: "You know I stopped counting at 39." Della tries her best to forget that this day comes around every year, but her boss has other plans. Birthday fluff for valancystirling.


_AN: This story is a birthday gift for my dear friend valancystirling! I am so glad we are fandom friends and I hope you had a special day! Quick shout-out to Lajulie24 and perrylovesdella for giving this a solid going over before I gifted it. _

She knew he hadn't forgotten it-there was a little star next to the date in his pocket calendar. The fact that the conference was scheduled for the same week was hardly his fault. Besides, it wasn't as if they would have done much to celebrate, anyway. Della was not one for acknowledging that day.

Still, he knew exactly how to make her feel special in a way that made the turning pages of the calendar seem worth it, as long as he was with her.

No, the fact that Perry had to be out of the country on her birthday was merely a sad coincidence, and she was sure that, upon his return, he'd take her somewhere just a bit nicer than normal and order her favorite champagne, insisting with that little twinkle in his eye that they were not celebrating anything.

Paul, of course, didn't know it was her birthday. In fact, the only reason Perry had ever figured it out was because it had been on her hiring contract, proving she was old enough to work and draw wages in the state of California. Della thought age was a ridiculous concept and did everything she could to forget how many times she'd traveled around the sun.

Perry was in London for a conference on international law. While the conference itself wasn't private, the sessions were all confidential as matters were discussed between legal experts of many countries. Della hadn't joined him simply to keep up their professional appearance. Normally, when they were separated like this, they'd talk on the telephone each night. Eight hours separated London and LA, however, and the conference kept a heavy schedule, meaning Della had only heard from Perry a few brief times when he had a break.

The office was so quiet and empty without him now. Usually, when she was here by herself, she was busy sorting through something, or getting ready for court while he chased someone down with Paul. His absence was a reprieve from their wildness, a moment for her to gather her thoughts and have a cup of coffee before he came careening back in like a typhoon.

When he was gone for extended periods of time like this though, she hated it. She'd come in at a reasonable hour every day and finish everything early.

Della, not being one to feel sorry for herself, kept busy. She saw friends with whom she'd canceled lunch dates and hair appointments, caught up on some mending-even passed a quiet evening with a library book.

Paul had convinced her to join him out and about one night, but it wasn't the same as being out with Perry. She was far too used to evenings spent at a secluded table with Perry in a restaurant where the lights were low and the music was soft and sweet, to enjoy being out at most of the joints Paul frequented. She loved both men, but certainly knew her preference. Paul _called_ her 'beautiful.' Perry made her _feel_ beautiful.

She missed his gaze that she could always find: in the courtroom, across his desk, beside her on the sofa in the evenings...the gaze she could read like her own shorthand notes-nonsense to most but completely comprehensible to her.

There were only a few days left of this forced separation, thankfully, and she was sure that Perry wouldn't allow another lengthy interlude for a long while.

The telephone on her desk rang-two short bursts, then two more. An outside call, not Gertie ringing from the other room. Only one person beside herself knew the direct number for her desk.

"Hello?" she answered coyly.

"Hello, yes, I'm calling to reach my secretary. She's ancient now, so you may have to give her a moment to reach the telephone," he teased.

"Hmm, no one here by that description, sir. Perhaps I should transfer you to the building switchboard?" She knew he could hear the smile in her voice. Perry detested speaking to the building operator.

"I'll settle for my young and beautiful secretary instead," he offered.

"Well, aren't you just a flatterer?"

"I know on which side my bread is buttered," he replied.

Della was about to reply when Paul walked in from the back door and sat sideways in the extra chair near her desk.

"Z'at Perry?" he asked in a whisper. Della nodded. "Tell him hello, and that he needs to get back soon because I haven't had any fun snooping to do for a week."

"Paul says hi," she relayed. "And hurry back. And I say the same."

"I'll be home before you know it," he promised. "And I know you can't say it back right now, but I love you, Darling."

"Goodbye, Perry," she said, wishing she could say more. No, she wished he were here so she could kiss the smirks off his face and tease the little smiles from him by crowding his space and taking his lapels in hand. She wanted to feel him behind her, his hand on her arm or her back, as they weaved through crowded streets. She wanted to feel his tense muscles loosen under her hands as she rubbed his shoulders.

"Della?" Paul's voice broke her musings. Gertie had come in without her hearing and was standing beside Paul's chair. They were looking expectantly in her direction.

"Hmm?"

"You want to get dinner?" Paul asked again. Della caught a glimpse of Paul's hand slipping around Gertie's back in an unconscious gesture of affection. They were doing their best to hide their office romance, also, but they hadn't had the years of practice that Perry and Della had under their belt.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I've got some things to do at home," Della excused. Paul and Gertie didn't make any effort to persuade her.

Half an hour later, Della pushed open the door to her apartment and nearly dropped her keys; the french doors to the balcony were open and the gossamer curtains were fluttering in the breeze. The apartment was dark, except for a few lit candles on the table. A little wrapped box was in the middle of the table, beside a bottle of her favorite champagne. One of the candles was stuck into a donut-no doubt from her favorite bakery.

And the best part of the surprise was waiting for her in the kitchen: Perry, smiling broadly, holding a bouquet of lilies wrapped in brown paper.

Della crossed her arms in mock indignation, but couldn't keep from smiling back at him.

"I thought you were going to be gone all week," she said.

"Well, I lied. Are you going to have me prosecuted?" he asked, stepping forward and offering her the flowers.

"No," she said quietly, coming into his arms. Della smiled and he pressed an affectionate kiss to her mouth. "Wait a second-the conference _does_ go all week! You shouldn't have left just for me," she scolded.

"You've rearranged your life for me more times than I can count, Ms. Street. I'm allowed to do the same thing for you now and then. I won't hear any more argument on the matter," he said, cutting off the protest that was forming on her lips.

"Where did you call from?"

"A telephone booth down the block. I dialed direct so you wouldn't be suspicious when it wasn't the long distance operator."

Della leaned in for another kiss, which he met willingly.

"I brought you a gift," he murmured between kisses.

"I don't think I'm finished with this one yet," she replied, pulling him back in for another kiss.

"I'm not planning on going anywhere tonight. Just open it," he urged, gently guiding her back into the other room. He handed her the box, wrapped in colored paper and tied with a bow.

Della untied the delicate ribbon and unfolded the paper. It was a square leather box, navy with gold trim. Jewelry.

She opened it carefully and found a beautiful string of matched pearls laid in a circle against the velvet lining with a pair of drop earrings in the center.

"You always say you want something to wear with your blue suit. I hope these fit the bill."

"They're perfect," she assured, lifting the strand carefully. "They're beautiful. Did you choose them yourself?"

"I had a little help from the woman at the jeweler."

Setting the case on the table, she lifted the string and examined it carefully.

"They're exquisite," she said. And they were-the luster, the size, everything so beautiful and uniform. She untwisted the barrel clasp and passed the necklace to Perry. He fastened it for her and Della put a hand to her throat.

The pearls were cool against her neck and laid perfectly against her collarbone. She checked the hall mirror and traced her finger over the delicate line the necklace made against her throat.

Do they fit the way they're supposed to?" he asked. "The jeweler explained the length and all, but I didn't absorb it."

"They're beautiful, Perry. Really."

He pulled her back into his embrace. "I'd wish you a 'happy birthday,' but I know you don't celebrate those," he teased.

"It doesn't bother me so much, all these years piling up," she admitted, leaning into him. "Not so long as you're here with me."


End file.
